The Shadows - Shadows in the Light
by adeepestblue
Summary: This is the first story within the Shadows AU. After leaving Splinter several years ago, the brothers are a force in NYC as an unexpected challenge to both the police and the criminal underground. But when goodness, righteousness and choices become ambiguous and uncertain, what will The Shadows really represent?
1. Prologue

Prologue – 13 years ago

New York City Police Department, Chief's Office

For a split second before dialing the phone, Chief Sterns actually felt bad. As he slapped the juvenile file down on his desk, his eyes flitted to the two frames pictures perched precariously on the far right corner backlit by the sunlight streaming through the wide open windows on this hot summer day. The one of his wife was in an almost gaudy golden frame with vines and leaves etched in the metal. She was young and fierce in the photo with her chin length black hair spiky and windswept, framing her large light brown eyes and joyous smile. The picture of his son now showed a strong teenager, as he had layered pictures into the same simple frame year after year. His son's wide, open smile matched his happy green eyes, the same shade as his own – a light green, almost grey hue. The boy's shaggy dark brown hair was tussled.

With a huff, the Chief sat heavily into his chair, feeling the arms pinch his ever expanding love handles. He'd taken on the role of chief five years ago and it had been a rough transition from running around on the streets to attending endless meetings with equally endless doughnuts, eclairs and cheap coffee. Earlier in the morning he had verbally sparred with the red headed reporter, and had basically come to the conclusion that she was another sworn enemy to add to his growing list. He ran his large hand down his face, stripping off the thin layer of sweat that seemed to be perpetually tickling his face every day of the hot NYC summer.

He knew about the Foot Clan. He wasn't an idiot. He also knew that if the thousands of people of New York knew the truth- that an ancient clan of ninjas was taking over the underworld of the city and slowly recruiting half the teen boys into their violent life and was led by a psychopath that wore metal armor - there would be panic. Sheer, unfettered and palpable panic. No one would be safe. He had to find a way to destroy the Foot another way...without public knowledge.

He hated to admit how fiercely he was ready to protect the city and its people…even if that meant hiding all of this from them. He couldn't risk it, and he also hated the voice in his head that justified wrapping it all up tightly and silently below the public's view. Even though 9/11 had been years ago, it always felt like it just happened to him, and he knew thousands of other residents felt the same way. He couldn't risk another population, hell an entire borough, of his city being persecuted and hurt because the general public didn't listen to the whole story. They were ready for an enemy they could touch and hurt. He was still ready for an enemy, and he knew his police force was as well. So, he knew he couldn't risk approaching the Foot Clan in the same way his predecessors had approached mobs and gangs. He just couldn't, no matter the cost.

He would not allow his city and its people to tear itself apart.

He glanced down at the juvenile file and the picture of the teen boy's messy red hair and faint red freckles greeted him from under a pair of pale blue eyes. He had immediately recognized the name from having the news on mute on a small TV in the corner of his office day after day for years. The boy had been picked up for petty theft and, of all things, pick pocketing on the outskirts of Times Square. It was his first offense. Never one to miss an opportunity, Sterns smirked despite himself as he flicked the file open, ran his finger down the side of the page and stopped his trace at the home phone number. He reached over his desk to his phone, quickly dialing the number with his pinkie. As it rang crisply in his ear, he kicked back in the chair with a loud creak and propped his feet up on top of a pile of repeatedly ignored paperwork.  
"Hello?"  
"Charles Pennington?"  
"Yes…uh yes. Who is this?"  
"You got a son named Danny Charles?"


	2. Chapter 1 - It Has Begun

Chapter 1- Present Day

" _Even a well-lit place can hide salvation…" – It Has Begun, Starset_

Terminal C, La Guardia Airport

She rolled her neck and felt the small tight muscles pop and unlock from her jaw down her shoulders and the center of her back. Walking up the minor incline from the plane to the gate exit, she nimbly lifted her shoulder bag strap over her head to settle across her chest, lashing the bag high on her back. Her laptop bag slapped lightly against her hip as she bobbed and weaved among the other passengers. Practically bursting out of the tight hallway, she took several long strides away from the crowd before slowing and taking a deep breath.

They had made good time from Tokyo to La Guardia, clocking in at a little over 11 hours. _Good_ being subjective.

Karai walked lightly and swiftly through the airport, her eyes roaming around instinctively. By nature she noted doors and exits, security and people. Her eyes swiveled quickly under her heavy lashes as her hair periodically drifted into her view. She wasn't late but she wasn't early either. She zigzagged through the people and hurried down a nearby stairway to baggage claim. She caught a glimpse of herself on a mirrored wall beside the stairway – long black hair with fuschia highlights peeking out gathered in a low ponytail over her left shoulder, tanned olive skin, high cheekbones under large green eyes, and her compact athletic body barely passing 5 feet 4 inches in height, loose non-descript white t-shirt over slim fitting cargo pants.

Hanging back from the crush of people at the rotating belt of luggage, she scanned the crowd casually. A reflection in the sheet metal wrapped around a pillar caught her attention. From the color and lines she identified it as her ride...an unmarked patrol car.

She glided quickly to and from the belt, flipped her luggage over the ridge and hauled it out of the tangle of people. After pulling it a safe distance away, she checked all the external pockets and then unzipped a side compartment and shoved her shoulder bag inside. She absently tightened the strap of her laptop bag, tucking it high under her arm. She straightened up and walked directly to the exit door nearest the car that was waiting for her, her luggage rattling slightly behind her.

Three feet from the glass door, she could see her driver looking in...right as her luggage wheel caught, causing her to jerk to a stop and stumble awkwardly. Letting out an annoyed huff, she glared at the offending luggage before resuming her walk and shouldering open the door to the bright sunlight. Blinking against the light, she tapped her mirror shades down from the top of her head onto her nose. The sunrise was a glistening tidal wave of gold and red, sweeping over the concrete and metal buildings of New York City and crashing into her eyes.

"Agent Oroku." The man was in his 40s, grey peppering his short blond hair. He had the build of a man that used to be fit but had aged out of activity. His muscles were still evident, but were lax and heavy where she could see his forearms passed the rolled up sleeves of his button up light blue shirt. His voice was thick and he sounded bored. He wore matching mirrored sunglasses like hers and stood stiffly next to the brown unmarked car.

"Good morning!" She greeted him lightly. She paused in front of him before starting to walk past him to the car. He watched her intently, but his face remained devoid of emotion.

"Yea, a very nice _early_ morning," he replied thickly. "I'll be your driver today, and have orders to take you to your apartment." He nodded towards the back seat door. "Your updated files are in there for you."

He rolled his shoulders and cocked his head, studying her and setting his mouth in a hard line.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Karai breathed evenly and relaxed her stature, ready to settle in for a stand-off. After another beat, he huffed a breath and then opened the door of the backseat.

"Name's Rezzer."

She smiled stiffly and forced brightness into her response. "Thanks!"

He ducked out of the way as she tossed her luggage in and then half jogged around to the other side and let herself in to the back of the car. She immediately noticed the thin stack of file folders with multiple papers sticking out at odd angles, as if recently shuffled. She reached over the seat and pushed the folders to the center area as she ducked her head and settled on to the seat.

The car shifted as he got into the driver's seat and glanced at her in the rearview. Throwing the car into gear, he roughly pulled them into traffic. Karai gripped the seat to stop from swaying and stared straight ahead as he wove somewhat recklessly between other cars and honking horns.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unseen weight. She flicked the file folders idly with her fingertips but didn't open them. Already, she had a feeling she knew what was going on. It had become almost routine for her – that feeling of fake welcome by officers that she has been hired to help. She never knew if they were more miffed that she was young, female, or just hired by their upper brass to start with. After enough assignments, she stopped caring about the why. She walked off the plane primed for a fight.

"You don't want to read them? I thought you'd be tearing into what little there is there."

Slowly Karai smiled and then took off her sunglasses and locked her gaze onto the rearview mirror. Her smile was icy and chilled as she studied her driver. Although her face remained passive around her frozen smile, her dark green eyes danced with electricity.

"Seems someone else already did." She stated flatly, not breaking eye contact. Still shielded by his sunglasses, she couldn't see his eyes but she could see the slight tensing of the rest of his face. He aggressively weaved among the cars on the highway. He swung the car off of Grand Central and picked up 278 without saying a word.  
She shrugged and chirped, "That's ok though. I asked the chief yesterday to send me everything electronically." She lightly patted the slick leather laptop bag on the seat next to her. "Long flight and all."

The driver grunted and returned his attention to the traffic.

Karai didn't flinch.

"I am wondering though... " she trailed off and waited until his face turned back to the rearview. Above his sunglasses he arched a bushy blond eyebrow expectedly.  
"What you did to get demoted from detective to driver." _Definitely primed for a fight today,_ she thought to herself.

"What? And give up all this glamor?" He spoke evenly through gritted teeth, and his lack of reaction felt forced. Karai got the distinct feeling he was used to being much more vocal.

"Most departments send a cadet or at best a rookie for driving duties. You're at minimum a detective. Probably what, 15 years in at least? You checked through the files to try and know what I know. Easy power play as of course you know more," she sighed, feigning boredom. "Why are you my driver?"

"Just can't accept that you're VIP material? Must be frustrating not believing in yourself. You'll have to write some positive affirmations on your mirror to know that you really _are_ good enough." His tone was sharp, yet conversational, and she knew this was his genuine character.

 _VIP_. She knew what that meant. Someone, somewhere probably high up on the invisible chain of command, didn't want her there, wanted her to know it, and Rezzer was their ambassador.

Karai narrowed her eyes to slits defiantly, refusing to get into verbal fisticuffs with an unknown but clearly informed and confident opponent.

"Don't take me to my apartment. Take me to the station."

"Sorry...driving orders were to take you straight to your new apartment. "

"No. Take me to the station." After a beat of pause, she continued with a chilly hint in her tone. " I'd hate to have to report that you failed at your special assignment today. Driving." She cocked her head at him and mimicked driving with one hand, arching her closed right fist back and forth in front of her. She arched a thin black eyebrow and sneered at him before turning her gaze to watch the traffic and skyline of the city zip pass overhead. The heat of his anger was palpable.

Elsewhere in NYC

As the sun crested over the horizon of the city's buildings and sharp edges, Leo sipped the hot tea he had made. He set it down on the circle table below the wide, tinted window and stretched. He hasn't worn his mask in years, but every morning as he looks out over the city, he runs his hands across his temple and around to the back of his head, smoothing the invisible material. His barely feels the slight texture of his tattoo anymore, these actions and movements now unconscious, a mimic of the act of putting on his mask that he wore the first 19 years of his life. Rolling his neck to work out a bit of stiffness, he picked up his tea again and takes another sip.

Behind him he heard the soft click of his front door. Hannah moved softly into the apartment and did a quick assessment of her workload for the day.

"Good morning sir" she greeted him evenly. Her voice was relaxed and warm as she entered the open kitchen area. She gently lifted the tea kettle and placed it in the deep double sink.

"Good morning Hannah." She had been his housekeeper for 3 years now. It had been one of the hardest decisions for him to make for his brothers. He could still remember Raph's grumbles when he instructed that they could have housekeepers but it would be done his way, as pretty much anything was done anymore. All four of the women were internal referrals. All loyal. All devoted. Most importantly for him – all controllable. They each had their own apartment in the building and existed as both a housekeeper and assistant to each brother. Hannah was the head of the group and a vital informant for Leo about his brothers.

Without turning to look at her, he sensed her moving about his domain. She had free reign and access, including his bedroom. She cleaned daily and was even more fastidious than he was... a welcomed trait that brought him comfort. Over the years she had learned all of his habits and preferences, and this had allowed him a level of comfort in his living. The least messy of the four, she still took ample time and care to keep his apartment clean and pristine. She spent most of the day here as the apartment was one fourth of the entire floor, equal to about the square footage of a small house. His bedroom was the largest room, but he also had a spacious office, meditation room, and sweeping, open areas that linked the kitchen, reading room and living room. The windows stretched almost the entire space, the privacy tint allowing him to move about freely and without care.

"Did you add the raw mint leaf like I suggested?"

"Oh? No I did not. I completely forgot."

She sighed like a mother having her patience tried. She padded softly to a far cabinet, fetching a small glass jar. She unclipped the top and plucked two small raw mint leaves. Clipping the top back down, she returned the jar to its place and tapped the cabinet shut. She strode to Leo and then reached up, almost on her toes, depositing the leaves into his cup.

He didn't react or flinch. Instead, he smiled softly at her and inclined his head slightly in thanks. After three years, they had established an easy and relaxed rapport. She had no fear of him, and he no fear or distrust of her.

She stood next him looking out at the city for a moment before turning towards a side closet that held all of her supplies. She was in her mid-thirties, but could pass for much younger. Her wavy red hair was pulled up in a perpetually messy top knot, and had shocks of purple lowlights around her face. Gentle and intelligent deep brown eyes set in her pale complexion. As she quietly pulled out the high end vacuum and extendable duster, Leo took another sip of his tea. The mint tickled his nose but he couldn't deny that the tea went down smoother.

"How are the girls?" He asked rolling his shoulders.

"Oh you know how they are" she chuckled. "Now your brothers…well you know how they are too."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "Ok, what did they do?"

"Did you know that Raph got two new pythons?"

"Did he now?"

"Yes. Erica didn't know because, per the usua,l he didn't think to tell her. She had to call Trish to unwrap the thing from her leg. You know she loves all of his animals but you have to remind him to leave a note about new additions...especially when the addition arrives before their cage does."

Raph and his pets. At first he was surprised when his biggest brother began asking about having animals. He had consented and over the last two years, Raph had accumulated quite a menagerie including snakes, turtles, geckos, water dragons, flying squirrels and of all things a chinchilla. Over the past few months, when Raph truly busted his nerves, he tried to mentally picture his largest, bulkiest, surliest brother walking around his apartment with the tiny gray and white ball of fluff perched on his shoulder, black whiskers twitching happily. The visual even now made him smile faintly.

"Just a note Leo. That's all she needs."

"I'll remind him today after practice. And how are Trish and Angel?"

"Well. Trish has sworn to never cover a shift for Erica but other than that fine. She did ask if you could remind Mikey that she prefers being called her actual name. "

Leo rolled his eyes involuntarily. "I remind him most days Hannah. I can't change him."

"I'm well aware." She paused. "Angel said that Don has been sleeping more. She wanted you to know. She knows you worry about him."

Leo nodded, not asking why or how Angel might know such an intimate detail about his genius brother. "Thank you for sharing all of this."

She idly brushed her red hair out of her eyes. "You know, between them and your brothers I feel like I have 7 children. I should thank you for being the boring one."

Internally, Leo winced slightly at that. Taking a final sip of his tea, he strode back to the kitchen and placed the cup on the marbled counter.

"How is John?"

Her back to him, Hannah stiffened slightly. John was her husband of 10 years. Leo had met him only once, when he had motivated John to voluntarily admit himself to a residential opiate treatment facility, one that Leo had personally selected and paid for. That was last year.

"Good," she sighed. "He hasn't missed a meeting since he came back. He, uh, actually wanted me to talk to you about a job."

Leo nodded at this and absently rubbed his temples. "When is his one year sobriety date?"

"Next month."

"Hmmmmm. Well, then that is worth celebrating. Tell him to update his resume and put him on my calendar for a morning meeting the day after his anniversary." He paused. "I'll be out most of tonight hopefully. Please stock the fridge with something easy for dinner, but you don't have to come back and prepare anything."

"Thank you sir," Hannah breathed quietly. He glanced at her as he walked past to the front door, and could see her trying to hide a smile. He nodded his goodbye, and set out to start his day first on the lower floors and then, later, to the garage and storage floor to prepare for the night's operation.


	3. Chapter 2 - Introduction

Introduction

He kept his gaze locked forward as he strode down the short hallway, past the doors to his brothers dwellings, to the elevators ahead of him. As he walked past each door, he faintly detected the individual aromas he associated with each brother. Cold metal, steel and the faint scent of burning plastic. Dirt, animals and grease. Day old pizza, wood and vinyl.

He paused directly parallel to his brother Don's door, feeling a presence behind the door. Ever since he was small, Leo had an uncanny ability. His youngest brother jokingly referred to it as his sense of sensing. He always won hide the ninja... at least until Don had made night vision goggles when they were teens. He knew she was just beyond the door, just beyond his sight. He slid is eyes to the right allowing himself a peripheral view of the nondescript door. He waited two beats, knowing she must be feeling caught and terrified he may turn his head and approach the door. With a deep breath that raised and dropped his large shoulders, as well as bring forth a generous creak from his leather chest harness, he looked forward and took his next step, leaving the door undisturbed.

He ate up the last few feet in two strides, flashing his thumb over the red led light next to the elevator. Although silent, he sensed the gears working, the cables swishing, and the car settling behind the metal doors in front of him. The doors slid open and he stepped inside, turning around to face the empty hallway. He fixed his flat gaze on Dons door and huffed once through his nose before the doors slid shut again. Rolling his shoulders again, feeling the weight of his katanas on his back, he relaxed and ticked off the floors as the elevator whisked him down to the main floor.

Above him, behind the door that had caught his attention the most, Angel let out the breath she had been holding the entire time Leo had been in the hallway. She hadn't even wanted to blink, terrified that the subtle movement would disturb the air enough to draw his attention even more. He scared her so much sometimes that she couldn't breathe.

…..

When the lights winked, all the teens and young 20 somethings stopped what they were doing. They popped out ear buds and pocketed I pods. Vapes and e-cigs were immediately extinguished and turned off. Books were slapped shut or turned over to lay open on their bindings. Basketballs and skateboards halted and left scattered about the courts and indoor skating rink. Papers and books were quickly shut and stacked, all variety of games were abandoned. Weighted bars were set down and chalk clapped quickly from hands. Computers and laptops were abandoned. All talking and laughter ceased as the large groups headed to the center, circular auditorium.

The peer mentors seamlessly guided the newest members to the lowest and closest seats while the older ones settled farther up. Some of the rogues jostled and stared down the younger members to encourage them out of the upper seats. Once the large room was filled and quieted further, the peer mentors gathered around the outer ring of the floor. They stood silently, just outside of the lighted center. The air buzzed with cautious energy, the youngest in the crowd restless with their eyes flitting around the darkened room.

The room darkened slightly, and the younger or newer members instinctively inched closers to each other. So many had lived on the streets and knew that in the face of danger, an unknown ally was better than isolation. Four pale spotlights lit up the center floor providing the illusion that the rest of the room was even darker. Wide eyed, the closest members seemed transfixed and anxious. Farther up the seats, older teens, in a rare show of innocence, didn't bother to try and mask the reverence they had for what would walk into the spotlights.

The air changed.

The quiet tension was replaced with a low hum of expectation and electricity as suddenly the four of them stepped into the pooled spotlights. Silent. So silent that those that were not looking at the pale circle of light missed their entrance and their attention had to be called through minor pinches and elbow nudges.

Those that had been there the longest took only a brief satisfaction in the sight of them before sliding their eyes to look over the responses of the crowd, most importantly and the most scrutinized being those closest to the front. Any dissent, any question of loyalty and secrecy needed to be immediately identified and removed. They watched as the youngest and newest members took in this picture of their leaders with hungry stares, typically moving from one figure to the other and yet always landing on the commander without any previous knowledge of him.

The two largest typically drew their eyes first. Standing on opposite ends of the line, as if to communicate the literal and figurative differences between them, they both stood relatively still. The tallest one, nearing 7 feet tall when he straightened up completely, tended to very subtly and gently sway as if moved by a breeze only his height allowed him to enjoy. His more svelte physique added to how much taller he looked than the other three. Long arms and legs balanced with a long torso, the more pale plates of his plastron seeming slightly elongated compared to his companions. The dark, olive toned skin of his arms lightened to a very pale green on his palms and face, the ropey muscles of his arms flexing smoothly under the spotlight. The slim fitting dark brown pants accentuated his less burly build, and the long, straight tassels of his dark purple mask further added to his lengthy appearance. His face was open and soft, a half smirk curling the corner of his lip as his large grey eyes surveyed the scene before him. His right forearm boasted a complicated looking tattoo of binary coding, and the tech inclined in the audience stared hard, trying to see enough to decipher the meaning. His relaxed stature was a bit misleading though as he casually rolled his neck and shoulders, and the once lax muscles noticeably jumped to attention and bunched and the possible power of that tall body was quickly and, if silently, clearly communicated.

Due to his slimmer build, the one at the opposite end of the line to him appeared even bigger and burlier than seemed realistic. Shorter and more compact, the bulkiest one on the stage stood stiffly, his thick-muscled arms crossed over his wide chest. The pressure of his arms being crossed made his huge, rounded biceps pop out even more. More round in appearance, he shifted his ample weight from one leg to the other, the visible leg muscles bunching and flexing smoothly, at least those that were visible past the hem of his knee length black shorts. The material appeared to be dusty, but with the dust being so white and in clear hand prints, the audience quickly realized it was chalk from being in the dojo or weight room that sat elsewhere on the spacious first floor. The shorts stretched over thick and sculpted muscle, and the angular plates covering his chest bore deep scratches, nicks and a few noticeable cracks around the edges near his shoulders. He swung his large arms down and back up as he shifted his weight again. His stern face was framed by a ragged red bandana that was left long on top to cover his head. White markings could be seen from afar but not actually read clearly. The tassles, not as long as those on the one next to him, hung down to his chest, swaying as he shift. His amber eyes sought the face of each person in the audience, the light in them hinting at a daring personality and the slight purse of his lips matched his haughty stance. On each side of his neck, red, orange and yellow flame tattoos crept up to his jawline and ran down over the curve of each shoulder, skimming the top of his chest. Suddenly the overloaded lifting bar made a lot more sense to those that frequented the weight room.

Next to him, the third was a bundle of bright energy. The shortest of the four, a wide smile graced his face and his baby blue eyes danced with delight. He wore a light orange bandana with short tassles that barely grazed his shoulders. More compact that the behemoth next to him, he stood squarely, also with his arms crossed but the stance carried a playfulness to it. He tipped his chin up as his eyes surveyed the audience, giving small, quick waves here and there. His slim fitting yellow and black shorts emphasized the curves of his legs and made the brighter green of his skin pop against the dark background. Up and down his arms, he had sun and sunburst tattoos of varying sizes and shapes. The oranges and yellows swirled, providing vibrancy and life to the pieces. The plates on his chest and stomach were slightly darker than the others, and over his heart he had an intricate sun painted on with ribbons of light that reached across and down his chest as if seeking to shine all over him. As he twisted to look behind him, the light caught this particular sun and it winked due to shellac that was painted over it to make it permanent. His muscles were ropey and toned, almost rivaling the girth of the bulkiest one next to him. The audience couldn't help but feel their mouths twitch with a smile at his demeanor.

But it was always the quietest, most still of them, the fourth, that finally drew the attention of every person in the room. Proportioned with his body forming a perfectly balanced "V", he stood completely still, with only the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest proof that he was real. Slim fitting black pants were boot cut over black gortex boots. A dark blue belt hugged him across the hips. A cracked leather harness crossed his chest, the pale plates with edges of darker brown almost matching the color of the harness straps. He stood calmly, his eyes scanning and holding the gaze of each face for an instant before moving on. Those piercing, ice blue eyes that didn't seem real. His face was set, his lips pressed into a thin line. His arms were carved muscle, flexing slightly, as he held his hands in loose fists. His eyes moved over the crowd first, and then his face and body followed, twisting to look over every inch of the audience before him. Unlike the other three, he did not wear a bandana. Instead, around his eyes and stretching around his head was a dark blue tattoo. A white crescent scar curved over his right eye from above his eye ridge down to curl over his cheek. Down the right side of his neck, tattooed tassles tumbled down to splay across the front curve of his shoulder and part of his check just above his plates. The silence deepened as he turned slowly, until he knew he had everyone's attention.

When he spoke, his voice was rich and deep.

"You are here because the outside world rejects you. You are here because your families did not care for you, did not tend to you as they promised. You are here because elsewhere you are not accepted. This is your family. We are your brothers. We built this...all of this. For you. For others like you. So that everyone who is wanting can have a bed, a meal. A family."

Leo paused, turning in a slow circle, seeking to make eye contact with every single individual as his baritone voice carried through the quiet.

"This is your family," he said, drawing to a stop in the center. "We… are your brothers."


End file.
